


Off-White Linen

by alliterations



Category: Subarashiki Kono Sekai | The World Ends With You
Genre: M/M, Post-Game, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-10
Updated: 2012-11-10
Packaged: 2017-11-18 08:46:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/559071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alliterations/pseuds/alliterations
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are certain consistencies that can weather even the reset button.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Off-White Linen

**Author's Note:**

> This is also known as the fic I wrote during archeology class to keep me sane. My first time writing this pair, and I plan to write more of them. They’re too much fun not to, after all. Enjoy!

Whenever he’d fall asleep in the café, Joshua would wake up later, without fail, on Hanekoma’s couch in the upper loft, covered and kept warm. He questioned it once, when he was younger and alive, but Hanekoma only responded that he’d get a crick in his neck if he were left to nap at the tables or bar, so Joshua took it as something the other would just _do_ , another one of the Angel’s countless eccentricities. Later on, during the days when he did not want to go home to deal with his parents or see the teeming Noise out on the streets, he’d take comfort in the gesture, a small moment of genuine relaxation and safety. 

Joshua woke, still groggy, to the warm smell of coffee offset by sharper notes of spray paint and charcoal. He was wrapped up in a pale cream blanket, watching late afternoon sunlight stream through the blinds, catching motes of dust and washing the paintings scattered about into sepia tones, the canvas frames casting long, thin shadows across the floor. It was comfortable, calm enough that cold gunmetal and the prickling, overwhelming surge of so much Soul recoding seemed like a distant, vague memory. 

Limbs and mind still leaden from exhaustion, Joshua managed to drag himself to his feet and shuffled across the floor, carefully avoiding open sketchbooks and stray pallets. He heard the hiss of an espresso machine working by the time he was halfway down the stairs, but the main room of the café was dimmed from half-shuttered windows, and void of customers. 

“Thought I heard you up.” Joshua didn’t respond at first, looking Hanekoma over pensively, before sighing and bringing up a hand to smooth down his mussed hair. 

“That wasn’t a dream, was it?” He didn’t ask it so much as state it, throwing off the last dregs of warm haziness still clinging to the edge of his mind as he took a seat at the bar. 

“ ‘Fraid not, Josh.” There was a flicker of some indescribable emotion across his features before his eyes turned inscrutable behind his sunglasses again. It irritated Joshua that he still couldn’t pinpoint things like that, pick up on the subtleties of Hanekoma as easily as the twitches and tells of others, even after so long. That difficultly led to part of the mess, after all. Or rather, if he were honest, Joshua didn’t let himself believe what all the little hints and oddities added up to. A betrayal by Hanekoma seemed ridiculous, unfathomable, but with how wrong he turned out to be, that assurance was what blinded him. Such willing, hefty denial was somehow more unsettling more than everything else. The _clink_ of a ceramic mug hitting the counter drew him away from his thoughts and he shifted his gaze over to the coffee now set in front of him. “Figured you’d need that. I’m honestly surprised you’re up and about.” 

“Why am I here?” Joshua wrapped his hands around the cup, but didn’t drink from it, the warmth beneath his fingers a familiar comfort. 

“After all that Soul recoding you did, you weren’t exactly steady on your feet.” Hanekoma gestured vaguely before resting one forearm against the counter. “Brought you back here for some sleep. First place I thought of.” 

Joshua made a quiet, acknowledging sound, glancing out the half of the window not obscured by blinds. It was just getting towards evening, a few lights starting to come on here and there. He had slept for a long while, but whether that was in hours or days, he wasn’t sure. 

“What now?” He asked, a definite heaviness to the inquiry that strung a silence between them for a few more seconds than was typical. 

“Well, whatever you want, boss. Clean slate and all that.” 

“It’s not clean.” Joshua rested his chin on his palm, still staring resolutely out to the people walking by on the streets, none of them giving the café a second glance. 

“Cleaner than it _was_.” Hanekoma amended. “Not all that bad, right?” 

“Maybe.” It depended on what he was referring to, which Joshua mulled over as he finally took a sip of coffee. There were still quite a few messes to clean up, reorganizing the Game and dealing with the Higher Planes’ retribution for all transgressions made. It would have saved so much trouble, Joshua thought ruefully, if he really had razed the entire thing, but that was likely the exhaustion speaking. He was so _tired_. “Are you happy I’m still here?” 

There was a whole list of other, more important things he could have asked about, but he wanted some kind of answer, some sort of explanation for what had been done, even if he had pieced enough of it together on his own. He glanced up in time to see Hanekoma’s eyebrows raise nearly to his hairline from honest surprise. Well, at least he could still do that much, once in a while, even if he wasn’t sure the shock was from the inquiry itself, or just how quickly the topic had been brought up.

“Of course I am, J. What kinda question is that?” Joshua simply stared over the rim of his mug until Hanekoma winced sheepishly, holding up one hand in placation. “Okay, okay. I get it. But I meant what I said.” 

“Do you really? It would have been easier.” He set his cup back down, absently tracing along the curve of the handle. “If I had been taken out of the picture earlier, I mean.” 

“This wasn’t about what was easiest or not.” Hanekoma was watching him incisively, picking apart words and phrases for what lay underneath, but Joshua just offered a sliver of a smile, undaunted. 

“I suppose not. You just did what you had to, after all.” There was a bitter, sardonic edge to his tone that caused Hanekoma to heave a sigh, resignedly. 

“Look, it’s—” He stopped when Joshua reached over the counter and grabbed his wrist, grip firm and adamant. 

“It’s not okay, what happened,” Joshua said, glancing over Hanekoma’s hand with a vague curiosity before tugging it forward, pressing the other’s palm against his cheek. “But I might believe you. There were so many more, simpler chances for sabotage that you didn’t take. And since I know you aren’t stupid or unobservant, Sanae, that leaves me only one choice.” 

“I never really wanted you _gone_ , J.” His fingers curled, catching on the curve of Joshua’s jaw and pressing there. “That’s a given.” 

“Like you always bringing me here and tucking me in when I fall asleep on your watch?” The contemplative tinge to the question was only out of teasing. Joshua knew it was a constant, something that couldn’t be scrubbed out, a reminder that white would never really be white again. He was no longer sure he could bring himself to mind it. 

“Sure. Like that,” Hanekoma agreed, dropping his hand. He walked around the counter a moment later, giving a gentle ruffle to Joshua’s hair. “Speaking of sleep, though, I think you could use some more.” 

“If you insist.” Joshua huffed, attempting to straighten out the damage Hanekoma had done with the gesture. “Take me to your place.” 

“Uh-huh. Any particular reason behind that request? You owe me for that coffee, by the way.” 

“Oh, goodness, sounds like you already have _ideas_.” Joshua slipped out of his seat, any mocking, coy look immediately souring at the second half of Hanekoma’s statements. “And put it on my tab or something.” 

“The one you don’t actually have.” He still put his hand at the small of Joshua’s back, regardless, steering him towards the door. The light pressure was reassuring, warm enough that Joshua wanted to pillow his head in the crook of Hanekoma’s neck and close his eyes. But that would have to wait for at least a little while longer. 

“So let it slide, for once,” he murmured, distantly noting the late sunset was a particularly vibrant orange. Hanekoma only chuckled. 

“Well, see, now you’re just talking nonsense. C’mon, let’s get you to bed.”


End file.
